


Aftermath

by unfinishedking



Series: The Aftermath Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Harry Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, M/M, NSFW, Praise Kink, Rimming, Set after the events of the book, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfinishedking/pseuds/unfinishedking
Summary: It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry and his friends should have been thriving, but instead they’re broken. Hermione offers them a chance to heal, with Harry as her messenger.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Series: The Aftermath Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781479
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic has depictions of sexual acts, as well as mentions of war, people dying, people struggling with mental illness.
> 
> I could have made this multiple chapters but honestly I think it flows better as one big thing.
> 
> Tried to make it accessible to read, please let me know if me messing around in the HTML messed something up

Harry was chopping potatoes in the sun-lit kitchen when the throbbing feeling in his head returned: dull at first, then insistent, pushing at his forehead from behind his skin. He hissed and put the knife down, massaging his fingers into his temple. It couldn’t be happening again, it couldn’t. It had been five years, Voldemort was dead, he’d seen it himself.   
But what if you were wrong? that nagging voice in his head said, he could have saved a piece of himself, put himself into a different body. You might have missed something. He could feel his hands tremble and he white knuckled them around the edge of the marble counter. Suddenly, every noise in the room felt so loud: the ticking of the clock that hung above the dish rack, the soft plink of the water dripping from the faucet, the humming of the refrigerator working overtime in the summer heat. Harry’s danced between his clutching at his forehead to covering his ears to gripping the countertop and he could feel his mind slipping away, almost like Apparating, sending him back to the school, where everyone thought he was dead and the only sound around him was a chorus of screams, the cries of strangers and friends alike—

A hand settled on Harry’s shoulder and he jumped, his mind rushing back into reality.   
“Sorry,” Neville whispered, rubbing Harry’s shoulder, “Did you go off somewhere again?” Harry took in a shaky breath and turned around, cupping his hand against his husband’s cheek, thumb gently stroking the stubble that lined his jaw.   
“Felt another migraine coming on.” Harry explained, allowing himself to be soothed by the coolness of Neville’s skin under his fingers. He closed his eyes, paying attention to how fast his heart was beating, racing like he’d just run a marathon. It did that a lot lately, almost like it was trying to burst out of his chest, exposing his anxieties to the world. The darkness behind his eyelids reminded him of the memory that had almost drawn him in again and Harry shuddered, jerking his eyes back open.

Neville frowned and placed his pale hand over Harry’s soft brown one.  
“Your hands are shaking.” he noted, squeezing Harry’s fingers lightly.   
Harry grunted in response and pulled them away.  
“It’s nothing, just gripped the knife too hard cutting the potatoes.”  
Neville narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, toned and bulky in all the right places. God how Harry loved those arms, how they were strong enough to crush Harry into a tight embrace but gentle enough to never make Harry feel trapped between them. Harry purposefully let his eyes fall to his husband’s arms, and he wet his lips with his tongue before flicking his eyes back up to Neville’s face.  
Neville rolled his eyes in response but the corner of his lips twitched upward for a split second, before Neville plastered a scowl on his face.  
“I’m not letting that work on me Mr. Potter. Have you been taking your medicine?” Neville pressed. Harry nodded his head then hesitated and shook his head no.  
“I couldn’t remember if I took them today or not and the doctor said the pills can get pretty addictive so I decided against it.” Harry explained.  
“Fine. What about your other meds?”  
Harry screwed up his face into a look Neville called the “tantrum face” and Neville let out a deep sigh.  
“They make me feel so fuzzy and I start forgetting things.” Harry protested.  
“You already forget things,” Neville said gently, moving to place an arm around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer until Harry’s chest was pressed up against his. He touched his forehead to Harry’s lightly.   
“You promised we’d try this new medication for at least two months to see how you feel and if it worked.”  
“I was worried it would get in the way of my deadlines.”  
“Forget the deadlines. Worry about yourself: you can’t write your best when you don’t feel your best love.”  
Harry sighed.  
“You’re right as always. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” he said softly.  
“Harry, you’re perfect the way you are,” Neville replied, “you just need to see that for yourself.”  
“Yes Professor Potter.” Harry drawled, a smirk stretching onto his face.  
Neville grinned and closed the distance between their lips, pressing his mouth into Harry’s in a forceful kiss. Harry moaned in surprise and brought his hands up into Neville’s hair, gripping a small chunk of the brunette’s hair by the root, pulling down with a measured strength. Their lips broke apart and Neville let out a strangled noise of pleasure, letting his head fall with the force, exposing his neck to Harry. Harry placed his mouth to his husband’s neck, sucking red marks onto the pale skin, careful to place them close to the collarbone, nowhere that a buttoned-up collar couldn’t hide. Neville panted, his hips subconsciously thrusting into the air in small motions, grinding slightly against Harry’s leg.  
“What happened to cooking lunch?” Neville moaned out.  
“Do you want me to stop?” Harry murmured against Neville’s skin, sweeping his tongue out and licking a line from Neville’s collarbone to his jaw.  
“Fuck no.”  
“Then lunch can wait.”  
“Fine.” Neville panted out, “But you still owe me that beef stew. You’v—fuck—you’ve been saying you’d make it for a week.”  
Harry laughed and removed his hands from Neville’s hair, choosing instead to start fiddling with the button on his jeans.  
“Yeah, yeah. Now open your mouth so I can feed you.”  
Neville groaned but sunk to his knees in front of Harry anyway.  
“You’re so corny sometimes.” Neville said, his focus on Harry’s hands slowly undoing his jeans and sliding them down. His eyes darkened at the sight of Harry’s underwear: a black pair of jockstrap underwear, the waistband flush against his body, perfectly hugging his hips and highlighting his V-line. Neville groaned and dipped his hand into his own pants to grip his cock.  
“Is that the new underwear I got you?” Neville asked, his voice husky.  
“It is. Are you going to sit there and admire it or are you going to take it off me?” Harry replied, his voice teasing. In response, Neville’s hands shot to his husband’s hips.  
“That’s a good boy,” Harry whispered, “Now show me what that mouth can do.”  
***  
After lunch, Neville stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes and Harry wandered off to his office, pausing in the doorway and taking in the sight in front of him. He had purposefully kept the space very minimalist so he could avoid any distractions and so the large space big enough for three king beds side by side only contained a large writing desk, an office chair, a filing cabinet, a large pullout couch, some bean bag chairs, and numerous shelves framing the desk, lined with pictures of Harry’s friends and family. He padded over to his chair and with a resigned sigh, sunk into the cushioning and faced what he had been dreading the most: the stark white of the stack of blank parchment paper neatly placed next to various quills and inks. On the left hand of the desk his laptop beeped its email tone: a sound Harry had become too familiar with in the past year.

The email was thankfully not from Harry’s editor or agent or from a young fan, but from a much more welcoming source: his old friend Hermione Granger.  
Harry, the email began, You know how I’ve been working on finding the remains of students who died in the Battle and their possessions to send to their families? Well apparently Mr. Diggory wants to donate money to aid my efforts: but he wants our friends there too to thank us for our role in the Battle. You know how no one ever really did that for us? How all the glory went to the adults and well, you? I think it could be really healing for our group. Could you help me round up a couple people, go talk to them, convince them to come back to Hogwarts, just for a weekend? Love, Hermione. P.S. How’s the Defense Against the Dark Arts spell book coming along? I get the first copy right? Can’t wait for it.

Harry sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Glory was a meaningless thing, and a small part of him was irritated at the witch for thinking that giving their friends “glory” was going to make things better. He knew how things went: at first, everyone loved you, wrote about your name in every newspaper, asked for photographs, sent endless university and job offers. But the minute you strayed from the public’s dreams for you, you ended up finding that world was never on your side after all. He glanced up at one of the many photos lining the shelves in his office, his eyes resting on the largest one, in the center of the middle shelf. It was the last work picture Harry took as an Auror, Ron on his immediate left, Neville on his right, grinning with an arm slipped around Harry’s waist. The three of them had been the top team, tracking down more Death Eaters yearly combined than the entire rest of the department. Every night after work they’d head to a bar to relax, chug away the memories that creeped up on them every time they saw the Dark Mark against someone’s skin, and they never had to pay for any of their drinks. And then, it all became too much for Harry.

His gaze drifted over to the filing cabinet and he closed his eyes, not needing to open the drawers to know their contents. Nestled underneath obituaries for Tonks and Lupin, for Fred and Lavender, there was a crumpled article that was titled “Chosen One Fallen from Grace: Harry Potter Resigns from the Aurors after a Disgraceful Breakdown and Takes His Husband With Him. Even just thinking about it made Harry clench his teeth: how they’d reduced Neville to Harry’s husband, like he didn’t have an accomplished life of his own, how the article detailed with surprisingly great accuracy how after a mission where the trio had dragged a Death Eater out of the arms of his wailing wife and children, Harry had cried in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic, screaming “I thought the war was over! Why are we still fighting, still dealing with the same people and the same sentiments?!” Kingsley himself had come out and gently guided Harry to Harry’s office, coaxing the wizard into a chair.  
“Harry,” Kingsley had said softly, “You have been through an immense amount of trauma, for basically every moment of your waking life. Have you ever stopped to think about what that’s doing to your mind, your body?”  
“I don’t have time to think about me,” Harry had croaked, “The world needs me.”  
“I think the world needs you alive and healthy, not stressed out and melting down. Take some time off, write down those stories inside you. I know many people who would love to give you money to write about your life and your magical knowledge and ability. Is it alright if I call them for you?”  
“I can’t leave this life, fighting is in my blood. I’m a Gryffindor, I can’t back down from a challenge.”  
“What challenge Harry? What challenge are you facing that is worth killing yourself over like this?”  
Harry had opened his mouth, but found no words, no explanations to back his fears. And the next day, he had taken an “official leave of absence” from the Aurors, Neville going with him.

A soft knock at the office door snapped Harry out of his reverie and Harry let his eyes drift open again as he swiveled around in his chair. Neville was standing in the doorway, one hand holding a plate of food, one hand clutching a glass of water. Neville walked over to Harry and carefully placed the plate and glass on Harry’s desk, giving his husband a soft kiss on his cheek.  
“Hard at work?” Neville asked fondly.  
Harry blinked at the plate of food.  
“Didn’t we just eat lunch?” he muttered.   
A worried look crossed Neville’s face.  
“Harry, it’s already 7 pm and we ate at 12.”  
“Shite. I’m sorry, I lost track of time.”  
“Forgetting things again?”  
“No, Hermione sent me an email and I guess it just made me...go off somewhere in my head.”  
“What was in the email?”  
Harry gestured to the open laptop and got up from his chair.  
“See for yourself.”

Neville sunk into the cushy office chair and peered at the laptop screen while Harry sat on the long leather couch, eyes boring into Neville’s back as the wizard read. The silence in the room was overwhelming, and Harry found himself lightly drumming his fingers against the arm of the couch just to create some noise to fill the space. Eventually, Neville leaned back in the chair, and turned to face his husband.  
“So, she wants to honor our friends who fought,” Neville said slowly, “How are you feeling about that?”  
Harry licked his lips and glanced downward, starting at his slippered feet.  
“You and I both know that honor means nothing.” he replied quietly.  
Harry heard the creak of the chair and moments later, felt the couch sink as Neville settled down next to him.  
“It doesn’t,” Neville agreed, “But as you and I also know, it still means something to our friends.”  
Harry looked at his husband and grabbed Neville’s hands, holding them in his own. All this talk about honor was bringing up feelings of shame that Harry had long pushed down. But now, he couldn’t stop the question he’d been meaning to ask for a year now from leaving out of his mouth.  
“Neville, please be honest with me. Were you really okay with becoming a professor instead of an Auror?” he asked, wincing as the words slipped past his lips.  
“No offense Harry, but my decision to stop being an Auror had nothing to do with you. Well, I mean, it did a little bit, I wanted to be around more and get a chance to really live like a domestic couple and being a professor meant I could work on a set schedule and not be woken up in the middle of the night because there’s been a lead on some Death Eater. But, for a while now, I’d been wondering about what my parents would have wanted for me, what would have made them proud of me. I knew they were excellent Aurors and so when Kingsley came to you, me, and Ron, and asked us to hunt down Voldemort’s supporters, I felt like it was a sign, a calling. And of course, it also let me be closer to you, and fall more in love with you than I’d already been.”  
A tear slid down Neville’s face and he squeezed Harry’s hands as he continued.  
“But a part of me still didn’t feel accomplished,” Neville choked out, more tears spilling down his cheeks, “I was doing all this fighting night after night and people were stopping me on the street and calling me their hero and it wasn’t enough. And then we got married and I took your name and I thought maybe I was betraying them, tossing away their legacy somehow but then one night, you said something that changed my life. And it’s not like you hadn’t already changed my life, you’ve always believed in me no matter, you saw the strength in me no one else did, you—”  
“Neville,” Harry soothed, “I love you too, you don’t have to worry about me taking anything you say the wrong way. I’m listening.”  
Neville took in a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly.  
“Anyway, one night you were telling me about this passage in a book you were writing about explaining some things that can help you ward off dark magic. And you asked me “For Merlin’s sake Neville, how am I supposed to write that I was saved by my mother’s love and that what helped me thrive as a person is knowing that all my parents ever wanted was for me to be happy?” And that’s when it hit me: if my parents were alive, they wouldn’t be upset with me over my doubts as an Auror or about changing my name, they would just want me to be happy. And then the next night I came in to bring you some tea and you looked so focused, so peaceful pouring over your old school notebooks, looking for some notes on spells, and it reminded me of all the little girls and boys who go to Hogwarts now and don’t need to worry about Voldemort, they’re just happy to learn magic and be in a place where they belong. I wanted to be a part of that happiness, to share my experience and to make sure no student ever feels like I’ve felt: like they’re not good enough.”  
“That was beautiful love.” Harry said, drawing Neville close so the wizard could rest his head on his shoulder.  
“And this is kind of uncomfortable.” Neville replied, pulling away and rubbing his neck.  
“Fair. What if I lie down on the couch and you lay your head on my chest?”  
“Deal.” Harry shifted so he was lying down with his back against the couch and Neville hummed happily as he crawled next to Harry and lay his head on Harry’s chest, pressing his body flush to his husband.

“So,” Neville started, “Now that that’s been said, what are you gonna do about Hermione’s email?”  
Harry kissed the top of Neville’s forehead and looked down at him fondly.  
“Well I certainly believe that as stupid as glory is, you deserve it. And all our friends deserve it. It’s just going to be hard, talking to everyone again after all these years.”  
“Yeah we haven’t talked to Ginny in five years and Luna in what, three years? And since we quit the Aurors Ron hasn’t spoken to us so that’s a year without talking to him. Do you keep in contact with anyone else?” Neville asked.  
Harry shook his head.  
“It hurt too much to talk to George without Fred also there, Draco has been laying low and not accepting anyone’s calls or visits, Cho is off playing for the Wimbourne Wasps, and Fleur has been busy with her daughter. I’m starting to realize that outside of my close friend circle, I didn’t know that many people. Hermione asked me to go to Hogwarts to help her identify some of the students that died when she first started out and some of the bodies we did find, I didn’t recognize any of them. Seems like everyone knew who I was, and I didn’t know anyone.” Harry replied.  
“Well, let’s focus on the people you do know. Do you want to try to reach out to Luna, see if we can talk to her first?”  
“Yeah okay. I’ll shoot her an email or something, last I heard she was off in America doing some SPEW work to help Hermonie out.”  
Neville lifted himself off Harry’s chest and stared at him.  
“Are they a thing? Because I feel like they’re a thing.” Neville asked.  
“Don’t know, Hermonie doesn’t snog and tell. You could ask Luna if you’re so curious.”  
“Wait, I’m coming with you to these talks?”  
“I just assumed you’d do it with me—do you not want to?”  
“Of course I do! I’ve finished preparing lesson plans for this fall already so I’m all yours.”

Harry smiled.  
“That’s right you’re mine.” he said, and pulled Neville in for a kiss, tangling his hands in his husband’s hair. Neville gasped and deepened the kiss, sinking down so their bodies were pressed right up against each other. Harry could feel something hard pressing against his leg and he tugged Neville’s head backwards, breaking the kiss. Neville let out a whimper and tried to move his mouth back to Harry’s but Harry tugged on his hair again and the whimper turned into a moan.  
“What, is one kiss enough to get you hard now?” Harry taunted, pressing his leg into Neville. Neville moaned again.  
“I just really like kissing you.” he protested, making a move to lean towards Harry again. Harry held him firm and sat up.  
“Undo my pants.” Harry ordered.  
“W-what?” Neville asked, dazed.  
“You’re going to undo my pants, take out my cock, and I’m going to fuck your face until my cock is nice and wet. Then you’re going to pull down your trousers and your boxers and I’m gonna fuck that hole of yours with my tongue until it’s ready for me to fuck it.” Harry said calmly.  
Neville followed Harry’s orders, quickly undoing the button on Harry’s jeans, and sliding them down Harry’s body as Harry lifted his hips to help. Neville then pulled down Harry’s underwear and gave Harry’s cock a couple quick pumps, unable to resist touching.  
“Stop touching,” Harry warned, “I want to use your filthy little mouth, not your hands.”  
Neville’s eyes widened.  
“Wait shite Harry you haven’t eaten your dinner yet!” he said, squirming in his husband’s grasp, “It’s going to get cold!”  
“Dinner can wait. I want you now.”  
“This is becoming a pattern with you isn’t it?”  
“Maybe. Now shut up, open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and get ready for me to shove my cock down your throat.”  
Neville did as he was told.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Neville visit Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another NSFW Warning: just in case!

Promptly six minutes after Harry sent his email to Luna, Harry’s laptop beeped, indicating that she had sent a response. Harry, the email read, lovely to hear from you again. I’m currently taking care of some little Nifflers sent to me from the Scamander Foundation so I can’t leave my cottage. They’re so cute, and Neville could come over and see them if you like? You can even have one if you promise me you’ll give it a little treasure room of its own. Also got some Bowtruckles coming in next Wednesday if that’s more up your alley. No need to give a heads up, just Apparate over when you’re free. I’ll have some oolong tea brewing on the stove.  
“Neville!” Harry called, “Luna responded, said we can pop over whenever we like to talk.”  
“That’s great!” Neville called from their bedroom, “Do you want to head over tomorrow?”  
“I was thinking more like tonight?”  
There was a pause and then Neville said “Yeah okay that’s cool just let me grab some of those blueberry muffins I made yesterday to take her: don’t want to show up empty handed.”  
“Maybe bring some trinkets you don’t care about too: she said she’s taking care of a couple Nifflers. Even asked if we wanted one.”  
Another pause.  
“Do we want one?” Neville questioned.  
Harry shrugged and then blushed, realizing his husband couldn’t see him.  
“It might be nice to have a pet around, like practice for having a baby.”  
At this Neville came into the office, his face bright red.  
“You want a baby?” Neville sputtered out.  
“Yeah? Do you not?” Harry responded.  
“No! I mean no, I do! Just, wow, a baby. Do we want a boy or a girl?”  
“A girl. I want to name her after my mother: and yours.”  
“Lily Alice Potter? Or Alice Lily Potter?”  
“Alice Lily Potter.”  
“Wow, okay. We should get going to Luna’s.”  
“I mean yeah, but why the sudden urgency?”  
“Because,” Neville said breathlessly, “If we don’t leave now I’m going to kiss you and we both know where that leads.”  
Harry waggled his eyebrows.  
“Ready for round three already love? Such a desperate little thing.” Harry teased.  
Neville’s face turned even redder and he stalked off down the hall back to their bedroom.  
“Just be ready in 10!” Neville called.

At exactly 10:43 am Luna heard a loud pop and she turned to see Harry and Neville Apparate into her living room. The pair were surprised to see Luna curled up in a loveseat, swarmed by baby Nifflers, with exactly two more seats next to her arranged around the fireplace, in front of which were two steaming mugs of tea perched on tiny tv wooden tables.  
“Hello,” Luna said pleasantly, “Tea?”  
“Hi Luna, it’s been so long.” Neville replied, walking over and giving the blonde a gentle hug, being careful not to squish any of the Nifflers.  
“Has it? I don’t think three years is a lot in the grand scheme of things.”  
“So you remember how long it’s been.” Harry pointed out quietly.   
Luna turned her gaze to the wizard and smiled.  
“Only because that’s how long it’s been since I started working for the Scamander Foundation. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”  
Harry felt his shoulders relax: if Luna said she wasn’t mad, then she wasn’t mad. She never was the type to mince her words or lie. Feeling unburned of the guilt he’d unknowingly been carrying for never reaching out, he crossed over to one of the open seats and sat down, grabbing the mug in front of him and blowing on it. Neville followed suit and the three of them sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being the chitters of the Nifflers and the sipping of tea. Only when both mugs were drained, did Neville clear his throat to speak.  
“Anyway Luna, as much as I’d love to say we stopped by just to stop by, I’m sure you’re aware by now why we’re here.” Neville said.  
“Of course,” Luna replied, “You want a Niffler.”  
“Well-well yes, but uh no.”  
Luna laughed.  
“I’m just messing with you: I read Harry’s email. We can talk about it in a bit but first we talk about the Nifflers.” She lifted one of the babies off her lap and held him like one would hold a puppy, gently, like holding a hamburger.   
“This little fella is named Midas. He’s the runt of the litter and he particularly likes shiny galleons so if you give him a few every now and then he shouldn’t go stealing your watches or anything.” she explained, handing baby Midas over to Neville. He cradled the Niffler in one hand and with the other, slowly drew out a galleon. The Niffler chittered excitedly and snatched the coin, stuffing the galleon in its pouch. It then happily nestled into Neville’s arm and fell asleep.  
“Little fella has some expensive taste.” Neville joked, gazing lovingly at the little creature.  
“Lucky for you, he will also accept Sickles and Knuts, he just won’t be too thrilled about it. Like getting cupcakes when you expected muffins.”  
“Speaking of muffins Luna, we brought you some blueberry ones I made the other day.” Neville said, gesturing at Harry to hand their friend the basket at Harry’s feet. Harry grabbed the handle of the basket, stood, and handed over the muffins, which Luna happily accepted, placing the gift in her lap. The Nifflers rushed over to the basket, and slipped inside, seemingly more interested in playing with the basket itself than the goods inside.  
“Nifflers only eat weeds and shrubs.” Luna explained  
“Neville made these gluten and dairy free.” Harry pointed out and Luna smiled appreciatively.   
“I’m sure they’ll be lovely with the jasmine tea I have set out for tomorrow. Will you two be staying the night?”  
“Uh, yeah, we could do that?” Harry said hesitantly, glancing at his husband. Neville nodded but turned to Luna with a worried look on his face.  
“Are you sure this isn’t weird for you Luna? Seeing your ex-boyfriend with someone else?” Neville asked.  
“Is that how you see yourself: as just my ex-boyfriend?”  
“Well no—”  
“You’re my friend Neville. And we only dated for two months. I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Harry cleared his throat.  
“As lovely as this visit has been Luna, I did come here to discuss Hermione’s plan with you.” he reminded her.  
“About heading back to Hogwarts to be honored for our part in the battle? I already told Hermione I’d go.”  
Harry blinked.  
“Uh, she didn’t tell me that. Sorry that we came all the way over here for nothing.”  
“It wasn’t for nothing: I got blueberry muffins and you got a Niffler. I’d say those are both something.”  
“Right, um, but why wouldn’t Hermione say anything.”  
“Maybe,” Luna said lightly, “she knew you needed a friend.”  
Harry shook his head but a smile stretched across his face. Hermione had always known him better than he knew himself. He set a mental reminder to thank the witch later, and changed the topic of conversation to getting another cup of that oolong tea.

As the night fell, Harry and Neville found themselves cuddling under a quilted blanket in the only bedroom in the cottage.  
“So you think Luna was being serious about this being the room for guests and her always sleeping outside?” Harry asked his husband, stroking his hair.  
“Oh, one hundred percent. Luna always puts others before herself. Plus, she seems to really like sleeping in the grass.”  
“But what about when it’s winter?”  
“I guess that’s why she moved to a part of the world where it never snows. And before you say anything about rain, we both know that wouldn’t bother Luna.”  
“True. I’m still amazed I managed to Apparate us all this way in one piece.” Harry said.  
“You’re so smart, I love my smart husband.” Neville murmured, titling his head up for a kiss. Harry locked lips with Neville and the two started a slow, tender makeout session, giving each other gentle pecks on the mouth, Neville cupping Harry’s cheeks in his hands, Harry slipping an arm around Neville to keep pulling him closer. Soon, Neville was making small rocking motions with his hips, and he was whimpering between kisses.  
“Harry,” he whispered, his voice gravelly, “I need you.”  
“Not tonight,” Harry whispered back, “I don’t have any lube on me, and your hot little body already made me cum twice.”  
“Then just use your fingers,” Neville begged.  
“Doesn’t solve our other problem, unless you want to take your chances with using your mouth to wet my fingers.”  
Neville’s breath hitched and he let out a low moan.  
“Please, Harry.”  
“Please what?”  
“Please fuck my mouth with your fingers and get them wet enough to fuck my arse.” Neville gasped.  
“Good boy,” Harry crooned, slipping his fingers into Neville’s mouth, thrusting them in and out, all the way to the back of Neville's mouth. He kept up the dirty talk, talking over the sounds of Neville gagging and sucking. “You’re so desperate, so needy, you’d take anything up your arse wouldn’t you? I could shove my whole hand in there and you’d thank me for it, I could invite another man and you’d take both our cocks in your tight little hole wouldn’t you?”  
“No!” Neville cried out, twisting his mouth from Harry’s fingers to get his words out, “I’d never let anyone else fuck me! Only you, I only want you!”  
“That’s right, you’re mine and mine alone.” Harry panted, gripping Neville’s chin and forcing his husband to open up and accept Harry’s fingers in his mouth again. 

They stayed like this for another minute before Harry withdrew his fingers and ordered Neville to strip. Neville ripped off his clothes like a man possessed and lay face down on the bed, ass in the air. Harry smacked Neville’s ass lightly and the wizard squealed but didn’t break position.  
“I’ve trained you well,” Harry noted, “and good boys who do what they’re told get a reward. Get up.” Confused, Neville sat up in the bed, watching as Harry lay down on his back.  
“Get on my face.” Harry ordered and Neville turned a bright red.  
“I-I thought you were going to finger me.” Neville stammered.  
“I changed my mind. I want to eat that sweet arse of yours first. Now sit on my face or we can go to sleep now and you won’t get to cum.”  
Neville whimpered and gingerly lowered himself onto Harry’s face. The minute Neville’s ass came within reach, Harry grabbed Neville’s hips, pulled him further down, and shoved his tongue into his husband’s asshole.   
“Fuck,” Neville moaned, rocking on Harry’s face, “That’s so good.” Neville reached down and started stroking his cock and immediately Harry stopped licking and gently pushed Neville off him.  
“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Harry asked. Neville shook his head furiously and immediately raised his hands above his head. “For disobeying orders, instead of me fingering you with your arse in the air like you like so much, I’m going to stick my fingers out and it’s going to be your job to fuck yourself back on them.”  
Neville opened his mouth to protest but Harry gave him a glare and cut him off.  
“If you protest you’ll have to wait until we get back home to cum.” Harry warned.  
Neville whimpered.  
“I love you Harry but god this is torture.” Neville panted.  
“But you love it.” Harry pointed out.  
Neville shot his husband a sheepish smile.  
“That I do.”  
***  
In the morning, before the sun rose over the lush landscape that Luna called her home, Harry and Neville slipped back to their house, well-rested and ready to tackle the day. Harry flipped pancakes on the stove while Neville sat on the kitchen island, sipping a black coffee.  
“So who’s next?” Neville asked, “We’ve still got Ginny, Ron, Draco, Cho, George, and Fleur.”  
“I guess Fleur is the next easiest person? The thought of meeting anyone else right now is a little terrifying.” Harry answered.  
“Okay so do we want to make an order ahead of time so we don’t have to think on the spot?”  
Harry shrugged and scooped one pancake onto the plate on the counter and set about making another one. “I guess.”  
“Do you just want me to make it and then you can tell me if you want to change it?” Neville prodded gently.   
“Yeah.” Harry croaked out, his mouth suddenly dry. The pan shook a bit in his grasp and he placed it down on the stovetop, reaching for a spatula to switch to a less dramatic but more controlled way of flipping the pancakes. 

Neville sipped his coffee, thought for a moment, and then spoke again.  
“After Fleur let’s have the order go Cho, Draco, George, Ginny and then Ron last. Is that good?”  
“It’s fine.” Harry said quietly. He put the spatula down and clutched his chest, feeling it tighten and his airway seem to close. This is it, Harry thought, This is where I’m going to die, watching the pancakes sizzle away on the pan. Harry felt himself start to hyperventilate and he went to grab the countertop to steady himself. In his rush to grip the counter, Harry knocked over the pan and the pan flew, pancake landing on the floor with a splat, hot pan landing right on Harry’s bare right foot. He howled and flew backward, knocking into the kitchen island and slumping to the floor. He could hear Neville shouting but all Harry could focus on was the pain searing through his body.

“Potatoes,” Harry heard himself saying mutedly, as if he were talking through water, “Peel a potato and place it on my foot please, to stop the pain.” He closed his eyes and around him he could hear Neville scrambling for the fridge, the fridge opening, the sound of a drawer being yanked open and then shut. He heard Neville furiously chopping something, a yell of “Shite!” and then he felt the cool potato against his foot, and a warm liquid dripping onto his skin. The air reeked of iron and Harry’s eyes flew back upon. Neville was pressing the potato against Harry’s burn but the potato was covered in blood.  
“Neville?” Harry asked, concern lacing his voice.  
“Cut myself with the knife,” Neville explained, “I’m fine.”  
“No, I’m fine, we need to fix that.” Harry protested, struggling to sit up. Neville gently but firmly pushed Harry back down with his other hand.  
“I got it.” Neville assured his husband. He dug into his pocket and produced his unicorn hair wand, waving it over his other hand.  
“Vulnera Sanentur!” Neville shouted. His hand glowed for a second but Harry couldn’t tell if anything had changed.  
“Tergeo!” Neville said. The blood disappeared off his hand and Harry could now see that Neville’s hand was intact again, with only a thin pink scar left behind as a reminder of the incident. Harry felt his head start pounding and he moaned, clutching his forehead.  
“Have you taken either of your pills today?” Neville asked sternly.  
“Took the one from the psychiatrist. Not the doctor.” Harry replied.  
“Let me go bring the one for pain then.” Neville said, starting to rise. It was Harry’s turn to gently push him down.  
“Don’t want to get addicted.”  
“Can I use a spell then?”   
“Fine.”  
Neville tapped his wand gently on Harry’s foot.  
“Ferula.” he said, and a bandage appeared and wound itself around Harry’s foot, adhering to itself after wrapping around exactly three times. Harry sighed, feeling the pain in his foot ebb away from the pain relief salve in the bandage.  
“Think I could get one for my head too?” Harry asked. Neville sighed but obliged, tapping Harry’s forehead with his wand and uttering the spell again. 

Now properly bandaged up and free of pain, Harry suddenly flushed with embarrassment. What a mess he had made of things: sending the pancake flying, burning his foot, causing Neville to slice open his hand. And all because what, he thought about having to face his friends after not talking to them for years? He curled his knees to his chest and bowed his head.  
“How am I supposed to face them when this is all my fault?” Harry whispered.  
Neville inhaled sharply.  
“Are you trying to blame yourself for fulfilling a prophecy older than yourself? For Voldemort’s actions? You didn’t kill your friend’s families, you didn’t try to create a world where only Purebloods are allowed to have rights.” Neville said sternly.  
“But I should have stopped him earlier!” Harry blurted out, “I should have done something before so many people died, and I couldn’t! I was too weak, and focused on wanting to live a normal life like a stupid selfish kid—”  
“A kid! You were just a kid!” Neville shouted. “We were all just kids! You can’t blame yourself for that: no one blames you for what happened!”  
“But they should!” Harry roared. He threw his hands up in the air. “Look at me now Neville, a failed Auror, reduced to writing books and reliving history instead of being out there: instead of being a hero!”  
Neville flinched, and he drew back from Harry.  
“Is that really what you think?” Neville asked coldly, “You think that anyone who isn’t out there working for the Ministry is a failure? Not worthy of being called a hero?”  
“I, I didn’t mean it like that.” Harry whispered. Neville stood up and started walking out of the kitchen.  
“Where are you going?” Harry called shakily.  
“I just need a minute Harry. Is that alright? If this pathetic, failure of an Auror who became a lowly professor just takes a minute away from the Chosen One?” Neville snapped, pausing to whirl around and glare at his husband.  
Harry gave no response and Neville sighed, turned back around and walked out of the room.

The minute Neville could no longer be seen, Harry slowly got to his feet. He was such a fucking idiot. “Way to go dickhead, for a Gryffindor you can be such a coward sometimes.” Harry cursed, his voice dripping with self-hatred. He looked at the pancake batter, hardening on the kitchen tile and pulled out his wand.   
“Evanesco.” he said, pointing his wand at the mess. It vanished with a small tearing sound. Harry often wondered where the things that disappeared went, if they went to some other realm, or truly were returned to a state of non existence. In that moment, Harry wanted to go wherever they went, and be yet another thing that just disappeared one day, eventually forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're halfway through already! how exciting


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry re-connects with the gang

By nighttime, Neville was holed up in their bedroom and Harry figured that the best way he could make it up to himself and his husband was to face his fears and prove that he was brave enough and strong enough to complete a simple favor for a friend. Next on the list was Fleur, but he felt that sending her an email would be too impersonal, especially for someone as caring and gentle as Fleur had become. He scrolled through his phone, found her number and, praying that it was still the right one, hit the call button. The phone only rang once before the line clicked over and a voice with a thick French accent came through the speakers.  
“Hello?” Fleur said.   
“This is Harry,” he responded, “It’s been a while, I wanted to check in and ask if I could stop by sometime soon maybe?”  
“Oh Harry! Hello cherie, it’s been so long! I’m afraid I’m currently over in Egypt, trying to track down a dragon egg for Bill. But you should go visit anyway! I’m sure Bill and Victorie would love to see you.”  
“Is that your daughter’s name? It’s lovely.”  
“Thank you Harry, you’re so sweet.”  
“How old is she?”  
“She just turned three a couple days ago!”  
“Cute. Listen Fleur, while I have you, Hermione wanted me to ask if you were willing to come back to Hogwarts to be recognized for your actions during the Battle of Hogwarts.”  
For a while, there was silence from the other end of the phone, for so long that Harry checked multiple times to make sure Fleur hadn’t hung up. When the witch spoke again, her voice was clearly strained and the happiness in her voice forced.  
“Let’s make a deal Harry: you go visit my Bill and I’ll go to your recognition thing, okay?”  
“Are you sure?” Harry asked gently.  
“I have to let you go, the guide I asked for is here.” Fleur replied, and the line went dead. Harry sighed and slipped his phone into his pocket. The last time he had visited Fleur and Bill he had used Floo Powder to get to their fireplace, so he figured that was probably more polite than Apparating into Bill’s house. Not everyone was as whimsical as Luna.

Harry headed over to the living room, eager to grab some Floo Powder from above the fireplace and get one more part of Hermione’s favor over with, when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned around to see Neville standing in the entrance to the room, hugging himself.  
“You’re leaving without me?” Neville asked quietly, his voice pained.  
“I thought you were mad at me.” Harry explained.  
“I was mad at you: I am mad at you.” Neville walked towards the large sectional and plopped down on a corner of it with a sigh.   
“Sometimes,” he continued softly, “sometimes I forget that you’ve been through a lot of trauma, and that you’re messed up and human like the rest of us. I knew what you meant, and I chose to take it the wrong way.”  
Harry shook his head.  
“It was also my fault, I should have been more careful with my words and thought about what I was saying.”  
“You couldn’t help it, you were in a panic attack, it was my fault for overreacting.”  
Harry smiled.  
“Look at us trying to take all the blame on ourselves.” he said lightly. Neville smiled back at his husband.  
“We’re really good at that aren’t we, making everything our fault somehow.” Neville quipped.  
“Still, I want to make it up to you.” Harry insisted. “I want to show you that I’m trying to get better, trying for us.”  
Neville stared down at the floor.  
“It would be nice to see some progress in you overcoming your fears.” he muttered.  
“Okay. Then let’s rework the plan. I’ll reach out to everyone on our list by email and see who gets back to us. Anyone who doesn’t we’ll deal with later.” Harry suggested.  
“That could work. Could you do that before we go visit Fleur?”  
Harry pulled out his phone and navigated to the mail function.  
“Getting on that right now.”  
It was Neville’s turn to smile.  
“I love you.” he whispered to Harry.  
“I love you too,” Harry whispered back, “But why are we whispering?”  
“I don’t know, I just felt like I should be quiet.”  
Harry walked over to Neville and cuddled up next to him on the couch.  
“Then let’s take some time to be quiet together okay?”  
Neville rested his head on Harry’s shoulder and Harry let out a happy hum. The two of them stayed intertwined on the couch long after Harry finished sending his emails.  
***  
A soft series of chimes roused Harry from his peaceful slumber and he groaned, slipping out from under Neville’s sleeping body to pull out his phone. It seemed he had a couple emails come in while he and his husband had dozed off on the couch, including one that had just arrived in his inbox. Yawning, he opened up the mail application and immediately, all traces of slumber left his body. Cho, Draco, and Ginny had all written back and Harry immediately felt his head start to swim, overwhelmed with the thought that he would have to read not one but three emotionally gut-punching emails. I just have to get it over with, Harry thought, I have to stop being afraid. If not for my own sake, then for Neville’s. He swallowed hard, and then opened Cho’s email first.

Upon reading the brief message, Harry felt some of the tension leave his body. It was a short and polite message, wishing Harry the best but informing him that she wouldn’t be able to attend due to her packed Quidditch schedule. 

Harry moved on to Draco’s email next and instantly a chill went through his body. The way Draco was writing made it obvious that the man was overwhelmed by fear and racked with guilt. The email said Potter, I’m surprised you still have this email, just as I’m surprised I still remember to check it every now and then. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that for these past five years I’ve been rotting away in my hideout, unable to walk among the living as you do. I’ve seen your career and your fall from grace in the papers, and I had thought about reaching out, but I figured you didn’t need me to be your shoulder to lean on when you already had so many friends. To stop rambling and get to the point, you can tell Granger that I won’t be showing my face at Hogwarts ever again. I’m sure that’s the answer she wanted to hear, confirmation that I wouldn’t go and fuck things up for everyone else.

It’s not like I deserve to go anyway. Five years is a long time, and time has given me the wisdom to look back on my follies and realize just how much blood I have on my hands. By the time you read this, I will have another set of bloodstains on my body, and across my walls, and maybe on the ceiling. I think you get the picture. This is the closest thing to a note that anyone is going to get and I have addressed to you, The Boy Who Lived, the one who rejected my friendship, yet still cared about me as a human. You were my sworn rival by fate, but I still think in another world, in another life, we could have been something like friends. 

I hope you’re happy now,  
Draco Malfoy

Harry’s resulting gasp was so loud Neville stirred by his side, first sleepily stretching into consciousness, and then sitting straight up at the realization that Harry was also awake, and shaking.  
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Neville asked. Harry handed Neville the phone and watched as his husband read the message Harry had been sent. Neville’s eyes narrowed, and Harry watched Neville’s grip around the phone tighten until his knuckles were white.  
“Typical Draco, even in death he manages to find a way to make you miserable.” Neville spat out. His face softened as he looked at Harry. “Should I read the email from Ginny: just in case?”  
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. He could feel his head starting to throb again.  
“That would probably be best.”  
Neville scanned the email quickly and Harry noticed the wizard’s shoulders visibly relax.  
“There’s nothing too bad in this one, do you want me to read it out loud?” Neville asked.  
“Sure.”  
“Harry, Nice of you to reach out after years without a letter or a call. Did you forget how to use the phone? Or was it that all the glory of being an Auror went to your head, and now that you’ve lost your mind and know what it’s like to lose your dreams you’ve come crawling back? Don’t take this invitation as me forgiving or forgetting you abandoning my family, because I’m not doing that any time soon. Even Ron knows how two faced you are: he’s known it for a long time but Hermione had convinced him otherwise. Anyway, the only way we’re going along with Hermione’s idea is if you come to the Burrows. You know, the home of the family that took you in for so many years out of the goodness of our own hearts? Me, Ron, George, and Mom are going to be there, and we’re all going to say what needs to be said. Tomorrow, you come for supper at 7 pm, or we aren’t going to Hogwarts, and you can explain the whole thing to Hermione yourself.  
Ginevra. P.S. You can bring Neville if you want, I know he’s like your emotional support animal. Tell him I hope he likes the taste of licking your boots.”

Harry groaned and lay back down on the couch, covering his face with his hands.  
“I thought you said it wasn’t too bad, that was brutal. She hates me.” he moaned.  
“I mean, I thought in comparison to what Draco sent it was better.” Neville said defensively.  
“He might not even be...I mean it’s also like Draco to just send shite like that to create more pain and confusion. Just shoot Hermione a message about it and she can deal with him.” Harry pointed out.  
Neville tapped on the phone’s keypad for a couple seconds and then hesitated.  
“Harry, are we sure that we should be shoving our problems off into Hermione? She’s got a lot on her plate already, and I’m sure she’s working through her own feelings about the whole thing.”  
“It’s Hermione, she’s always been good at dealing with Draco, and she’s strong, I’m sure it’s fine.”  
Neville set down the phone.  
“Just because she’s good at putting her personal feelings aside to solve everyone’s problems for them doesn’t mean we should be encouraging her to do it.” Neville said quietly.  
“Are you suggesting we just not tell her then?” Harry asked, “Wouldn’t that be worse?”  
“No! I just mean, can’t we wait? Give her a break from having to think about the death of someone we all have such a complicated relationship with?”  
“Alleged death.” Harry pointed out. “Anyway, how come Ginny is back at the Burrows? I thought her and Cho had both been drafted to that Quidditch team.”  
“Your guess is as good as mine, I haven’t talked to her in the same amount of time you haven’t remember?”  
“...So the only way to find out is to attend that meeting?” Harry groaned, “Bummer.”  
“Are you going to be alright going?” Neville asked, a worried look painting his face.  
“Honestly? No. But, I said I’d try to do better, and be better, and it’s about time I faced the consequences of my actions and my past.”  
Neville smiled softly and leaned over to kiss his husband.  
“I love when you talk like that.” Neville whispered, running his hands through Harry’s hair  
“Yeah? Does it turn you on to hear me talk about making changes for the better in my life?”  
Neville burst out laughing.  
“Oh yeah baby talk to me harder, tell me about your positive coping methods.” Neville fake moaned.  
Harry joined in the laughter and the two of them swapped jokes about how hot healthy living was until Harry suddenly became serious, and took Neville’s hands in his.  
“Are you willing to go with me? To the Burrows I mean.” Harry asked quietly.  
“Of course love, I would go anywhere with you. I’ve followed you into plenty of battles: what’s one more?”  
“I love you.” Harry said softly. “I feel like I don’t say that enough, because it makes me feel weak.”  
“Well, you’ll just have to say it more to make up for it.” Neville replied flirtily. Harry cupped Neville’s face, making it so the wizard had no choice but to look into Harry’s bright green eyes.   
“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Harry whispered. He closed his eyes and kissed Neville and felt Neville kiss back, the kiss both gentle and desperate, intimate and savage. He felt Neville moan into his mouth and pulled away, a smirk crossing his face.  
“Let’s head to bed, it’s late and we have a very important date tomorrow.” Harry teased.  
“But we just woke up!” Neville protested.  
“Who said we were going to sleep?” Harry called over his shoulder as he headed towards their bedroom.   
Behind him, Harry heard the sound of socks slipping on wood as Neville scrambled to follow and he grinned. Tomorrow was going to be hell but tonight, Harry had a feeling heaven would be a place on earth.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end (for now?)

All too soon it was morning, and then it was afternoon, and then somehow it was 6:30 pm and Harry was watching Neville rush around the kitchen, wrapping up some garlic bread he’d whipped up to bring to the Burrow.  
“They don’t deserve your garlic bread.” Harry said huffily, crossing his arms.  
“I figured we needed to extend an olive branch,” Neville replied calmly, “Did you get dressed up like I suggested?”   
Harry glanced down at his short-sleeved button up shirt, dark jeans, and white sneakers.   
“Kind of?”  
Neville glanced over at his husband and sighed.  
“It’ll do. You’re lucky you’re hot, hot people can get away with murder.”  
Harry flinched at Neville’s wording and Neville stammered out a quick apology.  
“I’ll just go use the Floo Powder first and then you follow?” Neville said, already inching towards the living room.  
“Yeah, I’ll be right behind you.”

Neville sucked in a deep breath and then let it out slowly.  
“You can do this.” Harry heard Neville mutter to himself, and he watched his husband speed walk to the living room. Harry trailed behind him, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. It was just for one dinner, just for one night. He could do this, for Neville, for Hermione. Crossing the living room, Harry paused in front of the fireplace. He hadn’t been to the Burrows since, well since the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron had invited him and Neville many a time when the three of them had still been Aurors, but Harry had been able to feign wanting to spend all his free time with Neville. Eventually, Ron stopped asking, and when Harry and Neville left the Aurors, stopped showing up to the bar as well. Harry couldn’t blame him: he, Ron, and Hermione had been thick as thieves once, friends until the end. It must have broken Ron’s heart to have his best mate pull away while at the same time the girl he had a crush on come out as a proud lesbian.

Harry shook his head to chase away the thoughts. He could feel his head starting to pound, and his fingers twitched, right hand inching closer to his jean pocket where his wand was. He couldn’t use that Ferula spell with the bandages it created, and he’d flushed his meds down the toilet weeks ago. He closed his eyes and pulled out his wand, tapping it to his temple.   
“Anodynon.” he whispered, and immediately the pain faded away and a delicious shiver ran through Harry’s body. Sometimes, it came in handy to be a wizard who knew how to make up his own spells. Feeling much calmer than he did seconds ago Harry tucked away his wand, grabbed some Floo Powder, and stepped into the fireplace.  
“The Burrows!” he shouted, and he was whisked away to the only other place in the world he’d ever called home.  
***  
The minute he stepped out of the fireplace, Harry instantly wanted to walk back in it and teleport away from the situation as all eyes turned to watch him appear. The family of redheads all looked the same as he remembered them, just touched with age and scarred from their shared past. Molly was sitting in a worn down recliner and she narrowed her eyes at Harry, a scowl appearing on her face. She moved as if to get up but a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her and she settled back into the fabric, clearly displeased. The owner of the hand was none other than Ginny Weasley (or Ginvera Weasley now) whose expression mirrored that of her mother’s except ten times more hateful. She stuck up the middle finger towards Harry who figured he deserved it, and continued to scan the room. To their right, Ron was staring intently at the floor as he perched on the edge of a kitchen chair, steadfastly refusing to meet Harry’s gaze. And on Ron’s other side, was another recliner, empty. 

Neville cleared his throat and Harry turned to the right side of the room to see Neville sitting stiffly on half of a loveseat, gesturing for Harry to come sit by his side. As Harry sunk down into the couch, Ginny spoke up, hatred dripping from every word she spoke.   
“Nice of you dependent selfish lovebirds to drop by. Was doubting that you’d even show after you ghosted me and my family for years. Last time you were in this house you were celebrating the victory with everyone else like nothing was fucking wrong, telling everyone in one of your famous motivational speeches that we were all heroes and that you’d be right there with us to help us rebuild. Did you know even then, that you’d leave us high and dry?” Ginny snapped.  
Harry opened his mouth to protest but she continued, raising her voice to drown out anything Harry might have said in response.  
“You didn’t even come to Fred’s funeral!” she cried out. “You didn’t answer when Mom told you Dad had cancer, didn’t answer when I told you I needed your help to pay for George’s therapy, you were just so much better than us weren’t you?!”  
“I wanted to be there!” Harry shouted, tears pricking his eyes. “I was going through a lot and I knew you guys were grieving and I didn’t want to be a burden or add onto any problems you had! I figured it was best that I stayed away!”  
“And what about us?” Ginny roared, tears streaming down her face, “We needed you! Where were you when we felt like burdens to everyone around us?”  
“And you!” she continued, turning her attention to Neville, “Do you just follow whatever Harry does, like you’re his fucking dog? Too entranced by The Boy Who Lived to be a good friend and reach out to me and my family in our time of need?”  
“You’re one to talk,” Neville snapped, “The whole time we were at Hogwarts it was Harry this and Harry that, talking about how dreamy he was, idolizing him like he was a damn god instead of a kid just like the rest of us. Did you really think Harry wanted a fangirl for a partner, instead of someone that would treat him like a human being?”

“Enough!” Molly shouted, making everyone in the room jump. Harry was shocked to see that tears were flowing freely down her face.  
“I wanted to be mad at you Harry, I really did,” she said, her voice thick with sorrow, “But you’re like my son, I love you like my flesh and blood. I was never upset with you, just worried. When you left after the reunion at our place and I didn’t hear from you, I thought you were dead or maybe you had to go into hiding. I prayed to Merlin every day , prayed that you were safe, that you were doing well in your life. And then Ron would come home, and tell me that the two of you seemed to be pulling away, and I just knew that you were reverting back into that old shy Harry that Ron brought over one day, the Harry burdened by his home life and past.”  
Harry felt the tears rush down his own face and he buried his face in his hands, openly crying. Neville rubbed his back as the two of them continued to listen to Molly speak.  
“Harry,” she asked tearily, “Are you eating well? Are you sleeping enough? You look tired and pained. I saw you in the news, about a breakdown you had.” She spread her arms and gestured around the room. “You know this will always be your home, why would you ever think you had to run away from it?”  
“Because I was scared!” Harry sobbed, his whole body shaking, “I know I’m not your flesh and blood and I was scared that I would be an imposter at the funeral, or that if I went the media would follow me and make the day about me grieving instead of about what a wonderful person Fred was. And then after I didn’t go, I was scared everyone hated me and that I’d fucked up one of the only good things in my life, so I just stayed away. And I know it was wrong and I know I hurt you and Ginny and Ron and George and I’m so, so, sorry Molly. I’ve been an awful person and I’m tired of making excuses.”

The room fell quiet for a moment, with the only sounds of the weeping of Molly and Harry breaking the silence. Molly rose from her chair and rushed over to Harry, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug and Harry hugged her back, clinging to her like a drowning man to a life preserver, like a baby to its mother. From behind them, Ginny awkwardly cleared her throat and the two pulled apart and looked at her.  
“I suppose,” she started, kicking her feet against the floor, “I suppose if you were willing to help George run his shop, I could find it in my heart to forgive you. You could let him be the face of it, the one handling the customers, and you could do all the business side of things which would also give you time to work on your books when things are slow.”  
“I can do you one better,” Harry sniffed, wiping away the tears from his eyes, “I still keep in contact with the team manager for Cho’s team, the Wimbledon Wasps. I can reach out to him and persuade him to extend a contact to you again.”  
Ginny’s eyes widened.  
“You would do that? For me?”  
“It’s the least that I owe you, and I know it doesn’t make up for anything I’ve done but I hope it’s a good start towards making amends.”  
“I’m sorry for the email I sent,” Ginny said sheepishly, “It was a little harsh.”  
“It’s fine, I deserved it.” Harry replied, a small smile on his face.  
Ginny hesitated, and returned his smile with a tentative one of her own.

Suddenly, Ron stood up and kicked over his chair, sending it clattered to the ground.  
“That’s utter rubbish!” he blurted out, “So Harry gets to walk back into our lives like nothing happened, like he didn’t abandon our family the minute he came successful. And we’re just going to ignore how he only came crawling back because his image is ruined now?” He pointed an accusing finger at Harry. “This bastard treated me like just some coworker for years, ignoring all the shite we went through, all the years of fighting together, living in Hogwarts, all the classes we struggled through, just because he’d gotten himself a new better life?”  
“You’re one to talk Ron,” Ginny snapped, “Who’s the one who started wearing these flashy clothes and watches to dinner, racking up tabs at bars and buying yourself new things while the house fell down around you?”  
Ron turned as red as his hair and turned to point his finger at Ginny instead.  
“Oh what, now you’re defending your precious Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, like you weren’t cursing his name out and crying over him all these years? You’re pathetic Ginny, crushing on a married man, acting like if you take his side he’ll want you.”  
It was Ginny’s turn to flush.  
“That’s a load of rubbish!” she shouted but Ron cut her off.  
“And you’re a damn hypocrite as well! For the whole year that you were off playing Quidditch you never came home anymore, just cut off contact with your only family! And if you want to talk about clothes I’ve seen your closet: you’ve got designer shirts and bags in there so don’t lecture me about what I spend my hard earned money on!”  
“You went into my closet? You bastard!”  
“As if you haven’t gone and taken shit from my room plenty of times.”  
“When we were kids! You’re a grown ass adult quit acting like a victim because people grow apart and have priorities that aren’t your selfish ass.”  
“I’m selfish for wanting a better life than this shithole?” Ron roared, gesturing around him, “Don’t act like you loved living at home with six siblings with barely any food on the table, don’t act like you wouldn’t be out of the house right now if it wasn’t for George.”  
“Fuck you. I’m not the one who left while Dad was struggling with his cancer: that was you.”

“Um, not to interrupt but where are Arthur and George?” Harry interrupted. The siblings ceased their bickering and turned to Harry, matching scowls on their faces.  
“Dad’s in the hospital and George is—” Ginny started.  
“Probably two sheets in the wind in some pub.” Ron finished. “That’s all he does: just drinks the pain away instead of living with it like the rest of us.” He turned to Harry, a lightbulb seemingly going off in his head. “Hey Harry, don’t you come up with spells or something? Surely you’ve got something for dealing with pain, even if it’s from something psychological or whatever.”  
“I mean I do but I’ve only really tested it on myself and I can’t say it’s safe—”  
“Have you ever experienced any adverse side effects?”  
“Well, no, but—”  
“Then I’m sure it’s fine, why don’t you stick around, wait for George to come home, and treat him with that spell of yours and we can call things even.” Ron said, crossing his arms.  
“I really don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Harry protested.  
Ginny stepped towards him.  
“Please Harry,” she pleaded, reaching out to touch his arm, “If there’s anything you just do to help George, do it.”  
Beside Harry, Neville gripped Harry and gently pulled him into the couch, away from Ginny’s touch. He then tapped Harry so the wizard would turn to face him.  
“Harry don’t do this,” Neville begged, “You know it would be wrong and unethical, you haven’t tested the spell to the Ministry’s standards, you haven’t patented it or registered it, you don’t even know the side effects.”  
“Shut up Longbottom,” Ron sneered, “Harry is a big boy, he can make his own decisions.”  
“You’re starting to sound like Draco, have you always been this much of a massive wanker or is it a new change?” Neville snapped.  
The two wizards turned to Harry, frustration and concern written on both of their faces.  
“Please listen to me Harry!” they blurted out in unison, pleading Harry to pick their side. Past them, Harry could see Ginny standing with her arms crossed, biting her lip, clearly embarrassed at how after berating Harry and hating him for so long, she still needed him after all these years. And kneeling by his side he saw Molly, the woman who had been a mother to him for so long, who had so readily forgiven him, begging with her eyes, begging Harry to help her son.

Harry closed his eyes. There comes a time in every man’s life where he reaches a fork in the road of life, and he has to pick which path to travel down. To his left, Harry saw a glimpse of a future where he stayed in the Weasley’s home, sleeping in his old bed, helping around the house, laughing with Ginny and Ron. He saw Neville, alone in their home, eyeing some moving boxes, unable to bring himself to fill any of them with his possessions, and unsure if he wanted to. To his right, Harry saw another potential future, one where he attended therapy and took his meds and fell into bed with Neville, kissing the man passionately. Two paths, two futures, one choice that would cause an irreversible change in his fate.

Harry looked at the people in front of him, some who loved him, some who needed him, and opened his mouth, his mind made up. There was no going back from this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in mind wanting to make two sequels for it but in light of all the things going on with JKR I'm going to be taking a step back from the world of Harry Potter for a while.


End file.
